And Here We Are
by theangeliclittledemon
Summary: Newly "emotionless" vampire Elena sets off with Dean to hunt. Rated M because who knows where the keyboard will take me in later chapters.
1. Prologue: Snacks and Snark

"Hurry it up!"

"Hold your horses, Satan Slayer; I'm coming!"

Elena Gilbert huffed as she stomped out of the luxurious bathroom of one of the most esteemed hotels in New York City, her hair tied up in its own white towel, steam trailing behind her. Dean Winchester was waiting in the lounging area, certainly enjoying the complementary meal of delicacies the hotel had sent up only thirty minutes ago.

"And feet off the table!" She demanded as she rounded the corner to see him sprawled lazily across the expanse of the white sofa, his dirt-caked combat boots resting comfortably on the no doubt carefully polished mahogany coffee table in front of him.

"Aw, why do you care?" he whined, his mouth stuffed with the last bite of a mini roast beef sandwich. "I thought you didn't care about anything!"

"People. I don't care about people." Her tone was clipped and exasperated, as if she'd told him this many times and he just ceased to listen.

"Oh, but you care about wood?"

"Yes, among other material things."

"Ugh, God. I can't with you."

"I know." She smirked teasingly, picking up two blouses by their hangers. "Which do you think?" she asked, watching as Dean turned around to look at her over the back of the sofa.

"Red or black? Personally, I like both; one's the color of blood, the other is the color of my soul. But the real question here is, which would go better with my new jeans?" She gave him a semi-fake pretentious look, inclining her head impatiently.

"Why do you always have to be so dressy? We're going on a hunt for fuck's sake, not the dining room of this expensive ass hotel you insisted on staying in!"

"Language, Dean!" She chided playfully, picking up a black T-shirt from the pile of clothes she had laid out. It read "_Nerd? I Prefer The Term "Intellectual Badass_"' in white italic letters.

"Of course, that would imply being a badass on all fronts, which I am so, accurate enough, I think." She boasted, before discarding the piece of clothing with a curl of her lip.

Dean scoffed. "Whatever, Elena. Just get your cocky ass out the door, we have to go."

"Alright, touchy." she sighed, letting her towel drop. Dean's eyes followed it closely as it pooled in an almost circle around her feet, the nails of which matched the french tips tastefully decorating her fingers. He watched as those feet moved out of his line of sight and over toward the dresser, where she had presumably stored her...delicates in the two weeks she'd been staying there. He heard the snap of fabric against skin as she put on and adjusted her bra and, still watching her feet, saw as she slipped the simple black cotton panties up her legs.

"I think it's safe for you to look up now," she almost purred, pulling a black, skin tight tank top over her head. Next, she pulled a light plaid cardigan over it. She wiggled into a pair of, of course, _black _jeans, that were stylishly ripped in various places from her thighs to her calves.

"You cannot stop me from wearing my new boots." she commanded, sitting on the edge of the white sofa and putting on a pair of socks that were long and somewhat see-through.

"Why are you wearing tights?" he asked, not knowing what else to call them.

Elena made a sound somewhere between an exasperated groan and a patronizing laugh. "They aren't tights, you idiot. They're...boot socks, okay? I don't know the technical name for them, but they are the type of socks you wear with boots. Leave it alone." He could tell she was irritated at not knowing something for once. After tying the long laces of her boots, she grabbed her suitcases and threw her bag over her shoulder and was at the door faster than he could blink. Dean quickly grabbed a small plate from the stack on the table, loading it with brownies, sandwiches, cookies, and other various foods.

"Hey!" he called after her, holding the plate protectively to his chest. "Do you think you could fit one or two of these pies in your purse?"

"Oh, for God's sake, Dean, weren't you the one hurrying me? No! Get your ass out of there."

Taking one last look at the beautifully decorated pies on the table, he grunted before hurrying after Elena, and closing the pristine door after him with a click that somehow rang to the tune of his annoyance.


	2. Unexpected Displays of Emotion and Pie

"So, what do we have...?" mumbled Elena as she shuffled through the papers Dean had handed her. The passenger seat of the Impala was familiar and comfortable, and she at one point propped her feet up on the dashboard to get back at Dean for his defiance in the hotel room; it was definitely worth it, depending on the way he looked like he might have an early on-set stroke and how his voice turned comically high pitched as he screeched at her.

Now, about fifteen minutes later, his eyes would still occasionally flick over to her feet, checking that they were firmly planted on the floor of the car. She continued in an almost bored voice, like it was all irrelevant."Ghost, zombie, shape-shifter...vampire?" Dean swore he saw her fangs flash behind her lips as she threw him a prize-winning smirk, and he almost shivered with mere instinctive revulsion.

"Maybe that's why I handed you the info, huh? So you could help figure that out?" He sounded as annoyed as he felt, but trained his eyes back on the road. Elena could have sworn on her mother's grave that he was, in fact, pouting.

"Oh, Christ." She hissed under her breath.

Reaching into the back of the car, she heaved her large shoulder bag over the driver's seat, purposefully knocking Dean in the head with it. "Hey, watch it, will you?! Tryin' to drive here!" Dean said irritably as she shuffled through her bag. With a triumphant sound and a jerk of her arm, Elena pulled something out of the bottom of her bag, throwing the bag itself unceremoniously back into the backseat.

"Here's your friggin' pie, okay? Can we stop pouting like a three year old now?" She practically yelled, shoving the still-perfect pie in his direction. Dean's face, which had still been focused on the windshield, lit up with excitement and maybe a tad bit of gratitude towards the brown-eyed vampire. Looking over, he saw that it was also carefully packaged in a clear to-go container, and he could tell whoever packaged it had been careful not to smudge all the decorative toppings.

"You brought one for me?" He managed to ask, dumbfounded. Because like they'd stated at the hotel, Elena didn't care, especially this much, for anyone. Right?

Dean noticed that she was uncomfortably (which was an emotion he rarely got to see concerning Elena) avoiding his eyes, looking down into her denim clad lap. "There's more where that came from. And if you stop being such an asshat and actually work on the case, maybe do some research, you might just get another one, and maybe a mini quiche if you're lucky."

Trying not to laugh at her use of the word "asshat", he nodded. He knew they were both not ones for sentimental chick-flick moments, and so he gratefully left her kind gesture at that, reverting back to the case at hand.

"So, uh, guy and his girlfriend are violently murdered; no signs of forced entry, friends seem pretty broken up about it." His voice sets into the routine cadence of the hunt quickly.

"So, what's so unusual about that? I don't know if you remember or not Dean, but humans are more than capable of brutal murdering, too. What makes you think this is a case?" She looked annoyed now, as if he'd wasted her time for nothing.

"Don't get your panties in a wad just yet! Here's the plot twist; the guy, uh," he glances over at the newspaper in her hand. "Kyle Manters; no family at all. All murdered when he was a kid. And guess what?"

"They were all murdered in the exact same way he was." It wasn't a question.

He could hear her unspoken snap of, _Little fucking psycho bastard. Why couldn't he just appreciate what he had? _

"Broken ribs, teeth ripped out, guts spilled on the floor." Her face was grim, more disgusted than sympathetic.

Dean nodded, having expected her to catch on quickly. She sighed. "So, Mommy, Daddy, and everyone else Kyle filleted are back for revenge, but I assume now they're going for anyone and everyone this guy ever associated with?"

"Yup. We gotta get there, find the bones, and burn 'em nice and crispy before they do any more damage."

A few minutes passed in silence, before Elena realized something, and looked up with a half smile on her face. "You _actually_ did some research. Maybe I'll give you that quiche just for kicks." Dean snorted disdainfully, but she could see the smirk threatening to take over his features.

"Ah, it's good to be back." Elena sighed, rolling down the window of the Impala and resting her now bare feet gently on the side mirror outside the car. Dean didn't have much of a problem with that. She reached over to turn up the volume on Nirvana's _Smells Like Teen Spirit_, and started singing along as the wind blew over her toes, and for just a few moments, as Dean reluctantly joined in, she felt really, truly good.


	3. When I Was Younger

**A/N: Anyone out there? Chapter 3 is up and ready. **

_When I was younger,_

_I told my mother,_

_I said, "one day I'm gonna make you proud"_

_Now that I'm older,_

_It's so much harder to say those words_

_Out loud_

Dean Winchester blew out a small sigh, knowing he wouldn't wake the sleeping vampire in the passenger seat. She'd somehow convinced him to give her some-to-all control of the radio sometime before she fell asleep, and now one of the stations she secretly liked that only played sappy and melancholic music was left on. He happened to like the last three songs that had been played, or at least wasn't disgusted by them, so he decided to leave it on for now.

Dean had known Elena for a very long time; they had met when John and Grayson had decided to have a little reconciliation, years ago. Elena had been fourteen years old and far too mature for her age, while Dean was twenty-two and had, not surprisingly, failed to grow up yet. They'd grudgingly been in each others' general vicinity, seeing as Elena had had an oddly placed distaste for his rebellious, sarcastic personality, and Dean had not liked her much at all, placed mainly on the fact that she was a slightly pretentious fourteen year old kid who seemed to already have life and the universe itself figured out better than even he did.

Though, over the course of a few visits, with Sam staying at Bobby's and no one else to talk to, they'd grown respectively friendlier toward each other, revealing that they were more like the other than first met the eye, and by around the fifth or sixth visit, they found themselves sitting over on the Gilbert's offensively colored couch, mocking their fathers' serious conversations with over-exaggerated gestures and voices while kicking back and watching sitcom re-runs. Elena had been astounded that Dean hadn't watched, or even heard of, most of the ones playing continuously on the television and had forced him to watch a few episodes of _Seinfeld, _which she said was one of her favorites, running a close second to a show called _Friends, _which she made him sit through five episodes of. He'd been a little surprised at how little he minded hanging out with Elena The Completely Ridiculous Baby-Teen, though, really, she had him wrapped around her fingers, like Dean expected was her affect on everyone she had known more than five minutes. The only thing that made it work on Dean, though, was that he knew that nothing of Elena was an act, which made it all the more hard to resist giving her whatever she wanted when she batted her big brown eyes at him like that.

She hadn't known anything about hunting then. He had wished she would never have to, but he knew trying to ignore the truth just made it easier for the lies to slip right through the cracks.

They hadn't really seen each other much after Elena's sixteenth birthday, life letting them drift apart. And hadn't Dean been surprised when he came by for a sentimental visit, sometime when she was supposed to be enjoying her newly eighteen year old life, to find that she would never turn a year older than she was now. It had taken quite a bit of convincing from her and Jeremy, who told him _everything, _from the vampire brothers and doppelgangers, all the way up to the blood sacrifices and eventual death of each and every one of their family members; but Dean had eventually come to understand that Elena hadn't just needlessly and tragically been turned into a soulless monster; she was still her, and he trusted her even more now than he had when he'd been reluctant allies with her years ago. He'd never even had the initial thought that she was nothing but a monster, had never needed to be told to _not _go chop her head off, had never even retrieved the machete from the trunk of the Impala. He'd only wanted to help. And if that was too unusual for a hunter's mind-set, he didn't think about it.

So he'd left, hunting again with Sammy, who knew about Elena's existence, yes, but knew nothing of _her, _or of her close friendship with Dean, though Dean knew he must suspect something after Dean's non-reaction reaction to her vampire-ridden life. They'd all agreed that the Salvatores probably shouldn't know of the hunters' existence in Elena's life, or Dean's visit, since, as Elena had put it, they were "very...protective" of her. So he'd hit the road again with a kiss on the cheek from Elena and a "later man" from Jeremy.

But then things got darker; her emotions were heightened, and life punched her in the stomach again, but this time, it was too much. Jeremy died, and slowly, she started to change; she didn't feel much of anything, she didn't care what anyone had to say about her anymore. She started to go out and get drunk, or stay home and get drunk. By the next time Dean came by six months later and found her at the bar of the Mystic Grill, she was well on her way to passing the Bobby Singer "How to Be An Old Drunk" exam with a straight one hundred.

Hell, the only reason he even knew really anything at all about her lately was because he'd gotten her drunk off her ass just enough to coax it out of her slurring mouth one night in some desolate bar in Minnesota. Looking over at her sleeping body now, he knew how far she'd come in her short eighteen years, and how far _they _had come. Her humanity was showing more and more lately, and besides, he had known it wasn't gone in the first place; Elena Gilbert couldn't just do that. Sure, she could become callous and jaded and maybe even weary of the world, but she couldn't snap her fingers and banish the actual essence of her soul; she was too strong to be that weak. And even if it wasn't glaringly obvious to him that she was still herself through and through, (though maybe just a bit faded) he couldn't have denied that she fucking deserved it. After all her losses and all the strain life had pushed on her, she deserved to let loose, and God forbid he ever thought this...he didn't really blame her for killing a few innocents along the way. Maybe it was because it was Elena, or possibly because his father wasn't there anymore to breathe down his neck and shove his own morals down Dean's throat, but he didn't. After losing Sam, how could he? Dean knew there had been countless times throughout the collective tragedy that was his life where he damn near turned off _his _emotions, and being human made it that much harder to do. He'd gone crazy and thrown stuff and had wanted to kill a few innocent people himself, if only to quell the screaming emotions swirling around inside him like a hurricane. So yeah, he got where she was coming from.

Thankfully, though, ever since she had been with him, Elena had taken to killing demons and monsters more so than she did humans. He guessed it was a way to feel both productive _and _destructive, to satisfy both sides of her cravings. Of course, she still participated in what she had told him was called "snatch, eat, erase". He'd been adamant the first few times that he had to come with her when she hunted, to make sure she kept to her word. She'd shrugged and led him to a night club, pumping with music and lights, and he thought, for her, also the sound of blood rushing through veins. He'd simultaneously grimaced and flinched as he'd _heard _the skin of her victim crack, and noticing his reaction, as she always did, she had staunchly defended that it was "better than the alternative". When he'd pointed out later that blood bags were also an alternative, she had been the one to grimace, proclaiming with esteem that she would ingest nothing that wasn't "straight from the tap" and at least 98.6 degrees, and that was that. Since then, he had asked to _not _go on her hunts, or at least stay inside while she took her victim out in some dingy side alley to feed. He was confident she hadn't killed them only when he saw said victim (or victim_s, _depending on how wild she was getting that night) walk back through the door looking dazed and sated. Then he would finish up his drink and meet Elena back where he knew she was, in the Impala in the parking lot, and they'd pick back up with whatever case they'd been working on without so much as a hitch.

It was odd, he thought, as he came back to the present and finally switched the radio to something more his style, shivering slightly at the cold wind sweeping in through Elena's rolled down window and over his arms. It was odd that this girl – vampire, he corrected with an inward eye roll – could bend his hunter morals so easily just by existing. And it was irritating, too.

He was jolted out of his thoughts suddenly when he felt his phone vibrating in his pocket; his personal phone, so it probably wasn't another job. He flipped it open, sparing a glance at the vampire still conked out in his passenger seat. Her mouth was slightly open. _She better not drool on my baby, _he thought automatically, even while he found it a comfortingly human gesture, and maybe something else that he didn't want to address now. "Yeah?" he whispered into the phone, knowing with her freaky-deeky hearing that it barely mattered whether he whispered or yelled.

A cautious sigh came over the line. "Hey, Dean..."

"Sam?"

**A/N: Oooh, cliffhanger. As always, reviews are much appreciated. **


	4. Sam Is Back

The Impala jerked to a violent stop at the curb of the deserted road, and Dean's heart was beating wildly in his chest; Elena could hear it loud and clear. His eyebrows were pulled down and together and his eyes showed confusion, tragedy, and some type of wild hope. He didn't look like Stefan did when he was brooding; (which was practically always). Instead, the look reminded her startlingly of Damon. She felt a twinge of something somewhere deep in her chest, and pushed it impatiently away. Now wasn't the time to think about her past.

"So, what you're saying is...Sam is _alive_?"

"Yeah, that's what I said." he snapped back, far too emotional himself to care whether or not he hurt feelings.

"Is that even possible? I mean, yeah, sure, _you _came back from Hell, but didn't your angel BFF drag you out of there?" She continued before he could speak, "And from what I've gathered, Sam was in a fucking _cage _in the pits of _Hell _with damn _Lucifer. _I mean, Dean, prepare yourself." To be honest, she wasn't sure why she was even talking, why she cared. Hell, she wasn't sure why she'd jumped in his car on his way out of Virginia instead of taking off and doing her own thing, you know, _away _from the supernatural hunters, where she could kill whenever she wanted. Maybe it was a sentimental thing, she really didn't know.

Dean opened his mouth to respond, but the sound of a rumbling engine interrupted him. Looking through the windshield, they saw a newer version black Jaguar pull up in front of the Impala, the windows tinted. Elena scoffed. "We got ourselves a mobster?" she asked, but Dean didn't respond, staring ahead with a deer-caught-in-the-headlights expression.

The Jaguar's door opened as the engine was turned off, and the biggest man Elena had ever seen ambled coolly out. He looked to be well over six feet tall with a wide, muscular build. A pair of Ray Bans covered his eyes, but he slid them back to hold his ridiculously long hair away from the slight breeze. "By God!" she exclaimed dramatically. "He's not a mobster, he's a _moose!_"

Dean was still staring as Sam started making his way toward the car. Elena turned to him. "Dean," she said chidingly. "You never told me you were related to a member of the animal kingdom. I would've been fine with it." She shrugged as he completely ignored her, jumping out of the car and hurrying toward his brother. She watched as they did exactly what was expected; hugged it out, tested each other with holy water and silver and whatever else they had. Only a few tears were shed, from Dean. Elena remembered distantly that she used to greatly admire a man who wasn't afraid to cry, but again, as she did with most of them, she pushed the feeling down, down, down, where it couldn't possibly be used against her.

She decided then was the time to make her grand entrance, and she stepped out of the car with as much bravado as she could exaggerate into the movement. "A family reunion," she called out. "and I wasn't invited? I'm hurt, guys." She mimicked a wounded tone, but she was grinning. Dean sighed, while Sam squinted at her in suspicion.

Dean looked from his brother to Elena and back again, then blew out a somewhat anxious breath. "Um, Sammy, this is-you've heard of her-she's, well, she's kind of, um..." Elena rolled her eyes and looked to Sam as if to say 'What a tool, amiright?'

"I'm Elena." She said, smiling. "Elena Gilbert." Her eyes looked so warm in that moment and her smile was so genuine that Dean could easily see who she was under all her bravado and general lack of emotion. He saw the girl who had struggled to hang on through the chaotic whirlwind of loss and heartbreak, whose presence now was so sporadic and fleeting; Dean felt like she was as fragile as glass in these moments of emotion, like if he spoke too harshly or breathed too loud, she would shatter and the wall would go back up and never come down again.

"Oh, yeah," Sam said with a twitch of lips that was more like a smirk than a smile. He glanced at Dean in a way he must've thought was subtle. "Dean's...mentioned you." Dean gave him a somewhat annoyed, somewhat questioning look, noting that he'd have to find out later why there was such a heavy teasing note in his brother's voice.

Elena smirked back, though Dean could read the accompanying confusion in her eyes. "Oh, has he now? Nothing too bad, I hope." Just as Sam started to shake his head, Elena continued on, making him freeze in his movements.

"...Like, say, the fact that I'm a blood-sucking vampire?" Her grin was quick and excited, and Dean internally groaned in anticipation of a fight between a hell-hardened Sam and an emotionless-vampire Elena who just seemed to be _begging _for conflict.

The sound of Sam's teeth grinding together was practically audible over the distant chortle of the Impala's engine. His head snapped around to Dean in such a way that he almost flinched.

"No," Sam said stiffly. "No, Dean hadn't mentioned that."

_Oops, _he thought, tossing another nervous glance towards his brother.

Sam's level of hostility surprised Dean a bit, seeing as Sam had always been the more likely of the two to sympathize with monsters. Hell, Sam had saved the _monsters _from _Dean _before.

"Look, Sam, this can be explained very easily, okay? Just hear us out." Sam's eyes widened, his lips pressing into a straight line. Dean recognized the facial expression that meant he wasn't in the mood to listen. Dean sighed, knowing where this was going.

He jerked his head at his brother in a way that said to stay put and not try anything, walking slowly toward where Elena stood, silent now, leaning against the hood of the Impala. He narrowed his eyes at her in a halfhearted glare.

"_What?_" she hissed, catching his eyes. "It had to come out some time. Forgive me for speeding up the process."

"I know, I know." he whispered back, glancing over his shoulder where Sam stood, glaring. He winced slightly before turning back to the vampire. "Look, you and Baby just head back to the hotel, I'll talk to Sam. You remember the way back?" He asked, pressing the keys trustingly into her hands.

Elena nodded, rolling her eyes at either his overly affectionate name for his car, or the fact that he doubted her being able to find her way back to a hotel barely fifteen miles back. "Good." he clipped out, immediately turning back around to deal with Sam.

_No, no, no, Elena, don't do it. It's stupid and awkward and you are emotionless! Remember?_

"Dean, wait." Hissing under her breath in frustration, she stepped forward, grabbing hold of Dean's arm. He looked back at her, his bright green eyes darkened with stress. He inclined his head at her in silent befuddlement.

"I'm...I'm glad you have your brother back, Dean." She choked out, giving his arm a firm, reassuring squeeze. Her words were rushed on their way out of her mouth, but sincere. Dean just blinked at her for a few dragging seconds, before giving her a small, grateful smile. He placed his hand on the one holding his bicep, giving it a reassuring squeeze of his own; he knew she needed it too.

"Thanks 'Lena," he whispered, watching as she nodded uncomfortably and briskly made her way to the Impala, sliding into the driver's seat. There was something about watching Elena drive his car, he mused as he watched the car getting smaller and smaller the farther away it got. It wasn't nerve wracking, as it would be with anyone else, even Sam. It was a pleasant sight...comforting.

Shaking himself out of his reverie, Dean grimaced at his thoughts. He stole a glance to his brother, who looked for all the world like a somewhat menacing pouty child.

"So?" Sam asked, voice tinged with irony.

"So," Dean responded. "We've got things to talk about. And I've got some explaining to do."


	5. Not An Apocalyptic Mega Crisis

"Sammy...how long have you been out of the cage?"

Sam's car (AKA, Sam's piece of plastic crap) had been flooded with a stony silence ever since they'd started driving, after watching the Impala and Elena fade into the distance. He'd contemplated asking if Ken and Barbie had gotten it for him as a 'Welcome Back' gift, but had decided against it.

Before, Dean had been too caught up in the miracle that _holy shit, his brother was alive. _Too happy to ask how the fuck he actually managed to get top-side, or how long he'd been out. Dean automatically assumed that Sam had called as soon as he'd gotten his bearings, but he asked anyway, to fill the almost-silence of the tires on gravel. Some voice in the back of his head told him he was asking the question for the reassurance that Sam even cared, but he pushed it down and away with a flourish.

Sam heaved a heavy sigh, his tight grip on the steering wheel loosening momentarily. "Dean, I..." he seemed to fish helplessly for words.

_Well, shit, _Dean thought. He wasn't sure which of his feelings was stronger at the moment; shock or anger. He watched as Sam briefly closed his eyes, bracing himself.

"Are you serious?! _How long have you been out, Sam?_" Dean barked.

_Okay_, he conceded as he felt the heat of rage under his skin. The anger, then. He could work with that.

"About a year," Sam said, seeming to decide honesty was the best route right now. Before Dean could even draw a breath to begin chewing him out, Sam continued. "But, Dean-I mean, you're fine, I'm fine-what's the big deal?"

"Are you _fucking kidding _me? The big deal is that I thought you were _dead, _Sam! For good! Not coming back. And _now, _you call me up out of the blue and tell me you've been walking around perfectly fine _for a year, _without one damn word? Not even a "fuck you" for the road. Did you forget how to send a text or something? What the hell is that? I mean, seriously, _what _the _hell, _Sam?!" His voice was gruff and strained, as if he were holding himself back even now.

"Dean, I don't know what to say. I'm sorry." Sam sighed, as if this was a problem he just couldn't solve. Dean noted the lack of guilt, of apology in his tone, and wondered what exactly had _happened _to Sam while he was in the cage.

Suddenly, Sam took in a breath, turning to him in a resurgence of anger. "But what about _you, _Dean? You're with a _vampire_? Doing what, monster hunting?" He scoffed. "How does she get blood, Dean?"

_Ah, there's the judgment I was waiting for, _Dean thought. He almost winced at the notion that he would have to tell Sam that Elena did in fact, hunt, instead of drinking from blood bags, and what was more, that he _let her _hunt. How the hell was he supposed to explain this? He remained silent for a few moments, trying to collect his thoughts and find a way to make any of it sound logical to another hunter. He couldn't.

He heard Sam scoff, and turned his head from where he'd been gazing with a furrowed brow out of the passenger side window. Sam was shaking his head, looking stonily at the road ahead. Dean sighed, coming to the realization that he couldn't make buddy-ing up with a vampire make even a lick of sense to another hunter no matter how he put it, but maybe he could approach this from a different angle, and reach out to his brother buried away under hunter morals.

"Sam," he sighed. "She's my friend. The only one who was really there for me during all this." He didn't have to indicate what he meant when he said "this". The look in Sam's eyes told him he knew exactly what he meant. That didn't mean he was going to relent any time soon though, apparently.

"Yeah, Dean I get that-that you have this weird _thing _for her, but how do you even know you can trust her?" Dean chose to ignore the first thing he said and instead focused on disputing the latter.

"I just _do, _Sam. I've known her since she was a kid, and just because she got turned doesn't mean she's immediately evil and I'm gonna go chop her friggin' head off! She's been through just about as much as we have, Sam, and she's so much younger, too. Plus, she's not like the other vamps we've hunted. A different species or something. One that's more human." It was true; the minute he'd seen her fangs and watched the veins that spread out to her cheeks and turned her eyes a muddled dark red-black, he'd asked for an explanation. She'd told him that as far as she'd known, she was the only "species" of vampire around, and when he'd proved otherwise, they'd exchanged information, her telling him about the compulsion and other powers her kind held, and about the fatality that the sun held, showing him her ring and explaining that too. She told him that the older the vampire was, the stronger, about the quite literal humanity switch they possessed, but that otherwise, every thing else from their human life was heightened, so in fact, they weren't naturally emotionless creatures, but usually turned it all off at some point due to the _overwhelming _emotions.

She'd even, albeit a bit warily, told him that a wooden stake to the heart would finish one off in a pinch. A few days later, she'd strolled into their hotel room with a cardboard box packed full of herbs. "This herb is called verbena, otherwise know as _vervain,_" she'd said, holding a small stalk of it up with a gloved hand. "It's toxic to vampires and protects against compulsion. Do whatever you want with it; eat it, drink it, make jewelry out of it. Just make sure it's in you or on you." He'd tried to keep the incredulity off his face, but had nodded gratefully at her anyway. He had thought he'd lucked out and caught her on a good day when she'd explained patiently the different ways he could _kill her, _but now she was going to extra lengths to protect him against her kind, and he was surprised, to say the least. That was about the time Dean really began to trust Elena, with his life even. She could have snapped his neck faster than he could have blinked when he started asking questions, seeing as he hadn't really known the level of her power then, but instead she'd made sure he knew what he was walking into, and that meant something _huge _to him.

"A vampire that's human?" Sam asked with attitude, and Dean really wished he would just _stop bitching. _

"That isn't what I said. I said _more _human. You're just looking for stuff to bitch about, and it's getting really old, because _I _certainly don't know what _you've _been up to all this time; so why don't you tell me, hm?"

"I've just been hunting, picking up cases with some other hunters I met on the road." Sam, hunting with strangers? It sounded off. And the fact that Sam hadn't even thought to contact him for so long sent a shiver of apprehension up Dean's spine. Sam quickly took the attention from himself, retaliating with another harsh question before Dean could ask his own.

"Your little vampire; you don't let her feed on people, do you?" Dean knew with the extreme judgment in Sam's tone, he'd have to evade this question for the time being. Dean tried to look as outraged as he could, turning to Sam in quasi-incredulity. "Jesus Christ, Sam, really? To answer your question, _no, _she doesn't _kill _innocent people!"

_There, _he thought. _Not exactly the truth, but not a lie, either. _

Sam just scoffed. "And what if she does, and you don't know it?"

He'd had about enough. "Then you can either _deal with it,_ or back the hell off and go hunt somewhere else!"

"Are you seriously choosing a monster over your own brother right now?" Sam looked incredulous, maybe even a little worried.

Dean sighed, defeated, and slumped in his seat. "No, Sam, you know I want you to stay with everything I have...but I also want her to stay. I won't let you hurt her." He straightened again with his last words, letting Sam know that the warning in his tone was real. This was his brother he was talking to, it was _Sammy_, but Elena had been and still was an important part of his life; she was his family too. And he didn't have much family left these days.

"She isn't just a run of the mill monster to me." He realized he'd said these words out loud, in barely a whisper. Sam sighed, a defeated one this time, finally relenting.

"Okay, Dean, I guess I get it," he said. "But if she kills someone and I hear about it, there isn't anything I can do." Although he was surrendering the point now, Dean could still detect his brother's anger, and knew he'd have to keep an eye on him for a while.

Instead of arguing with him about it, Dean just nodded, somewhat relieved he was letting it go for now. He thought about telling Sam the differences between the type of vamp Elena was and the ones Sam knew of. He decided it would probably be safer not to, though, at least until Sam got over his aversion to her. A few moments passed in contemplating silence before he turned to Sam again, cocking an eyebrow.

"So, why'd you call me up, anyway? You've been living fine and dandy without me for a year without a problem. Why now?" Either Sam had become oblivious to emotions, or he decided to ignore the bitterness in his brother's voice. When he gave another heavy exhalation of breath, Dean noted that excessive sighing must be a Winchester trait.

"I need your help with something."

_Jackpot. _

"Right, and is this a minor something or more like an apocalyptic-mega-crisis...something?" He was trying to use snark to cover up his thinly veiled panic. They'd just fixed this. What if there _was_ some mega-crisis? Had Lucifer followed Sam out of Hell? Were demons over-taking in his stead? There couldn't possibly be _two _apocalyptic scares in the course of just over three-hundred-sixty-five days, could there? The car slowed suddenly as they pulled into a parking lot, and Dean looked out the tinted windshield, having been lost in his thoughts. They had just pulled up to a _Motel 6, _driving around back to a dingy room marked with the numbers _141_.

"Come on," Sam said, taking the keys out of the ignition and starting toward the room. "I'll show you."

"What are we...what are we supposed to do with it?"

Once Sam had led them into the dingy motel room, Dean saw that it was not another apocalyptic nightmare waiting on the other side of the door; rather, it was something he deemed much worse. Something he had no idea how to handle. Uncharted territory.

Sam looked awkward and annoyed, the first emotions other than anger Dean had seen cross his face since he'd been back. His wide eyes and scrunched eyebrows might have made Dean snicker if he wasn't just as clueless on what to do with the thing squirming on a towel in the center of the bed.

"Do I _look _like I have any type of experience with stuff like this?" Sam snapped, not taking his eyes of it.

"Well, do_ I_?" He snapped back with incredulity.

At that moment, the baby let out a long high-pitched squall, causing both men to jump.

Sam had explained briefly about the case he was working on, and that he had found what was soon to be one more of the missing babies huddled under a bed. God knew why exactly he was keeping it with him, though. Dean decided not to ask. "Isn't there _someone _you can call for help? Any of those hunters you made nice with have paternal instincts?"

"Not any more than either of us."

"Hm. Well, this is just _great, _Sam. What are we gonna do-" He stopped short, frozen. "Ha! Hold on, I have an idea." he whipped out his phone, scrolling through the contacts and seeming to stop and look at one as if it were the cure to cancer. He pressed the call button, putting the phone to his ear, licking his lips with comically wide green eyes in an expression Sam recognized. Dean thought whatever plan he had was genius, the answer to all their problems. He heard the faint sound of an annoyed female voice pick up, saying something that sounded like "what is it _now, _Dean?"

"Elena!" Dean cried, yelped almost. Sam almost stomped his foot in frustration. The vampire, again? _Really? _

"Listen, Elena, we kinda need your help here-" he was cut off, Elena's voice suddenly becoming serious and business-like over the phone.

"No, no, it's not life threatening." Dean assured her. With a suspicious glance at the baby still lying on the bed, silent now, he amended, "At least, I don't think."

"It's kind of, um, we need help taking care of a baby...NO, I didn't _steal _a baby! Sam did! The point is, we don't exactly _specialize _in this area, and we need your help, so get your happy little ass down here."

Sam thought he heard a muttered "oh my _GOD_" and delightful laughter. Monster or not, Sam thought, she had a nice laugh. One that, if she _weren't _a monster, he might've liked to hear in bed.

"Well, your dad was a doctor, wasn't he? That's gotta mean something. And last time I checked, you were a babysitter when you were a kid, right?" Sam wondered idly if Dean thought he'd stepped on a sore spot by mentioning this girl's human life when he winced at the sudden silence on the other end of the line. After seconds of quiet, there was a clipped sentence, and then Dean gave her directions to the hotel and the room number. Another clipped reply. Then the dial tone.

Dean took one look at Sam's face, sighed, and pointed at him with the hand still holding his out-dated flip phone. "You said you understood." It sounded like a warning.

He let his lip curl slightly in distaste, nodding to signal that he wouldn't do anything particularly drastic, yet.

"Doesn't mean I have to like it."

/

Elena tapped her fingers on the wheel of the Impala, periodically switching the radio to different stations, since, without Dean in the car, it was one of the few times she could listen to the music she wanted to listen to.

_I keep on looking with my mind set on a mission_

_I walk the streets I walked before_

_Sometimes you're on your own, sometimes you're out of control_

Nope. Reminded her too much of waking up in a different antique car on the way to Georgia, blue eyes twinkling at her in humor the entire ride. She flipped to a different station.

_I'll be right here now, to hold you when the sky falls down_

Ew. The soundtrack to every one of Stefan's suffocating, unsatisfactory hugs. It hadn't been his comfort she'd needed. Switch.

_Take me back to the start_

No, thank you!

_Things we lost to the flames, things we'll never see again_

_Whoa, okay, that one hit a bit close to home._ Growling, she gave it one last try. She punched a button on the old stereo, listening to the beginning notes of Linkin Park's _Numb _fill the car. It was some Dubstep remix.

_Tired of being what you want me to be, feeling so faithless, lost under the surface_

_Don't know what you're expecting of me, put under the pressure of walking in your shoes_

_Caught in the undertow, just caught in the undertow_

Ah, finally. Now this song, she could feel with, and it was okay.

_Every step that I take is another mistake to you_

_Caught in the undertow, just caught in the undertow_

_I've become so numb I can't feel you there_

_Become so tired, so much more aware_

_I'm becoming this and all I want to do is be more like me_

_And be less like you_

It reminded her of when she was first discovering how the whole inner-vampirism thing worked, crying and stressing over the fact that she was more like-well, a vampire-than she thought she ever could be. She'd tried so hard to push the vampire-the hungry, cruel creature-away, and stay somewhat human when she just wasn't anymore.

_And I know_

_I may end up, failing too_

_And I know_

_You were just like me with someone disappointed in you_

Elena scoffed out loud. How stupid she'd been.

She was approximately three miles from the hotel they were staying at, planning to sit down, watch the History Channel (she thought it was interesting, didn't know why Dean had been surprised to walk in with take out one night to see her watching it) or maybe sit down on her laptop and look for a case (she'd gotten into it, okay?) when Dean called, interrupting her thoughts. She turned the radio down, answering the phone.

"What is it _now_, Dean?" she asked, overly exasperated.

"Elena!" Dean yelped. His voice was so comically high, she almost asked if someone had poked something sharp into the place where the sun don't shine, but didn't get a chance to. He kept talking. "Listen, Elena we kinda need your help here-"

Oh crap. Had he really _already _gotten himself into a situation? She quickly dropped her smirk, cutting him off. "What's wrong? Are you in danger?"

He seemed to pause for a nearly indiscernible moment before he answered, making her fingers fidget nervously on the steering wheel. "No, no, it's not life threatening," Another pause. "At least, I don't think." She rolled her eyes, relaxing in her seat and focusing back on the road. Clearly, the only thing Dean was in danger of was his own stupidity.

"Then what is it?" she asked with an irritated sigh.

"It's kind of um," he sounded nervous. His next words made her go rigid again. "We need your help taking care of a baby..." She stopped the car with a screech on the side of the road, fighting the irrational urge to look around to make sure no one was listening.

"Dean!" She gasped. "Did you _steal a fucking baby?_" her teeth were gritted by the end of her sentence, and she was fighting for control of her temper. Why _the fuck _did he always get himself into these weird ass situations? The more she thought about it though, the funnier it was, and her temper started to cool quickly.

"NO, I didn't _steal_ a baby!" he snapped back, sounding appalled. "Sam did! The point is, we don't exactly _specialize _in this area, and we need your help, so get your happy little ass down here, will ya?"

"Oh my _GOD_!" she uttered, resting her head on the steering wheel. The ridiculousness of the situation was hilarious, and she finally let her laughter out in a long stream of rich giggles. "And what exactly," she asked as her laughter died down. "makes you think that _I _can help you in your little..." A small chuckle. "predicament?"

"Well, your dad was a doctor, wasn't he? That's gotta mean something. And last time I checked, you were a babysitter when you were a kid, right?"

_Ooh, bad move, Dean. I don't like to talk about this, you know I don't like to talk about this. _

She was silent for a moment, just breathing. In, out, in, out, in, out. She was restraining herself from blowing up on Dean. It wasn't all his fault, was it? No, it wasn't his fault that she seemed to be way too sensitive lately than her current emotionless state required. She guessed her steel walls were rotting away to nothing. Damn.

She put the car back in drive, pulling away from the curb and doing a U-turn.

"Where are you?"


	6. Petrova Women Make Truces

Elena pulled into the _Motel 6 _Dean had given her directions to. What had the room number been, _141_? She pulled around the back, parking the Impala next to Sam's car. She rolled her eyes at it as she climbed out of Dean's car, flipping the keys around her pointer finger. The sleek (and surely overly expensive) car was entirely black. The windows were fully tinted, and even the tire rims were a solid dark black. It was an extreme contrast against the sun and the gray pavement of the parking lot, but she expected it blended right into the shadows at night, which was probably Sam's whole intention.

She took a deep breath her body didn't need, and opened the door to the motel room. She hadn't used her enhanced hearing to listen before she'd walked in, and now she rolled her eyes so hard they almost fell out of her head. The gargantuan Sam was standing awkwardly on the side of the room, his stance comically hesitant while Dean paced the middle of the room with a baby slung surprisingly naturally over his shoulder. Neither seemed to notice her.

The baby was still squalling, and over its screaming Elena could hear Dean's helpless attempt to calm it by humming "Smoke On The Water" in his deep, rumbling tones. She leaned against the doorjamb, crossing her arms snugly against her stomach, just watching.

After a few more minutes of relentless rocking and humming, the baby calmed to mere whimpers, and Dean gave a triumphant huff. "Now, if I put you down, you gonna be a man about it?" he mumbled, placing him on an elaborate set-up of pillows on the motel bed. The baby quieted, and Elena heard its breathing calm into slow, steady paces.

Huh. Who knew Dean Winchester had a Daddy gene?

"I don't know, Doctor Huxtable, it looks like you got this handled." she made her presence known, strolling leisurely into the room. Dean's head whipped up in surprise, but he made no move toward her. Sam, on the other hand, came to attention rather quickly, and gave her an instinctively wary look. His hand strayed toward the back of his waistband, where she assumed he kept a weapon of some kind. She thought of Sam blindly throwing salt on her, and almost snorted out loud. What was he gonna do, pull a machete out of his ass? She'd have it out of his hands and pressed against his throat before he could blink. She suspected Sam didn't really know what she was; in the short time they'd been gone, Dean probably hadn't gotten around to explaining to him the major differences between her kind and those half-breed fuck ups they hunted that called themselves vampires.

She held her hands up calmly, whistling. "Cool your jets there, man. I've been summoned."

He didn't look happy about it, she observed, but he sighed and retracted his hand, with lips tight and eyes narrowed in an expression she was sure he'd practiced in the mirror at some point.

She figured it was time to get moving, so she strode over to the table at the side of the bed and picked up the pad of paper there, scrounging around in the drawers for a pen, impatiently moving a worn customary bible out of the way in the process. "Alright, I'm sending you on a milk run; saw a supermarket a few miles up the road. I'll make a list for you."

She glanced over at the peacefully sleeping infant, jotting things down as they came to mind. "He's a bit of a big guy for his age, so I'd probably get, hm, medium or large size diapers? Pick up some Gerber's too; get like, one of each flavor in case he doesn't like it and spits it all over you. Grab one of those tiny rubber spoons, you know which ones I'm talking about, right? Some baby powder and oil. Good idea to get some rash protection cream, too. Oh, and make sure everything you buy is good quality. Don't get the cheapest shit there, because it's all most likely been recalled sometime in the past or the near future, and it'll either give him a massive rash or make him sick, and you don't want a sick, rash-y baby on your hands, cause you can damn well bet _I'm _not gonna be the one to clean up his puke, ya got it? Good."

Looking up from her hurried scribbling, she caught Dean staring at her like she was his new leader, taking in her every word like it was the air he breathed. Even Sam seemed mildly impressed. "Alright, boys, you think you can do this, or do I need to go with you? Someone's gotta stay here with the kid, though." She said, pressing the paper to Dean's chest with a pat as she passed him. Dean glanced down at the neat, bubbly handwriting, before straightening his back and looking back at her almost defiantly.

"No, we can handle it. Isn't that right, Sam?" he boasted, glancing expectantly at his brother. Sam fidgeted, looking skeptically at Elena. "I don't know if we should...leave her here alone with..." he trailed off, probably expecting Dean to come to his senses and agree with him.

Dean just blinked at him.

Elena had caught on to what he was going to say the second he'd opened his mouth, and she was completely offended and enraged by Sam's insinuation. She may be a blood-sucking monster by definition, she thought, but how _dare he _imply she would do the same to an innocent child! And especially one she was trying to help him take care of.

She voiced her thoughts aloud, advancing on him fearlessly. "If you are suggesting that I would harm a _hair _on that little baby's head, you need to _seriously _think again, you got it? If you're really that concerned, though, by all means, stay here and make sure I don't eat the fucking baby or some shit."

She was up in his face; or as in his face as she could get, and fighting the intense urge to shove him hard in the shoulder, maybe throw him into the wall. But as much as she wanted to, she reminded herself, this was Dean's brother, there was a baby six feet away, and most importantly, if she started a fight with him, it would just serve to completely dispute her point.

"Dick." she added for good measure, enunciating clearly. She had heard overall good things about Sam over the years, but if he was going to act like this, all high and mighty on his throne of cliché "badass" sports cars and fraudulent credit cards, well, he could just go fuck himself.

Elena saw Sam's jaw clench hard, and he looked at the wall behind her as if he could burn through it with his glare alone. He was trying to control his anger too.

She could already tell that her and Sam Winchester were _not _going to get along, at all. She didn't know how they were going to tolerate each other, but they might have to if they both wanted to keep Dean in their lives. He was the only thing they had in common so far, it seemed. Except for their mutual dislike of each other. There was always that to bond over, Elena thought snidely.

Maybe she would have to be the bigger person here, douse the flames even when she wanted to jump right into the fire. She took a deep breath and stepped back from Sam, pointedly.

"Look," she started in her diplomat voice, much like the tone she'd used to barter deals with Elijah when she was human. "I know you don't like me, and you're suspicious of me, and I'm a monster, OMG, and all that horse crap, okay? I don't much like you either, _but _I'm willing to act civilized if you are." She looked expectantly between Sam and Dean, who were both sporting skeptical looks.

"And by "act civilized", I of course mean, I won't try to kill you as long as you don't try to kill me first. Insult me all you want, and I'll do the same; trust me, it helps repress the homicidal urges." She added conspiratorially, a smirk threatening to take over her features.

From the corner of her eye, she could see Dean nod, almost as if he were the teacher of a good behavior class and she was that kid who always set a good example for the entire class. Unbelievable.

With a glance at Dean, at her, back at Dean, back at her, Sam huffed lightly, seeming to be more unbelieving than Elena of how the events of the day were falling into place. "Okay, fine, sure." he still spoke with tight lips, as if his mouth were stitched tightly together, and he was straining to speak around the stitches.

"Then we have a deal. Friends?" Elena responded, maybe trying to be sincere, maybe not. Sam glared at her again, and she decided sarcasm was always a nice out.

"Okay, that's a milestone for a different day. Got it." She said with insincere awkwardness. Dean rolled his eyes at her words, heading toward the door, grocery list firmly grasped in his fingers. "You comin' or not?" his words were directed at Sam, and his tone sounded harder than usual.

Elena's eyebrows shot up, unnoticed by the brothers as she looked between them. So apparently _Dean _wasn't too fond of Sam at the moment, either. Interesting. Sam nodded, and with one last hateful glance at her, made his way past Dean and out the door, where the elder brother lingered.

"We'll be back soon. You, uh," he cleared his throat, his gaze shooting to the ground. "You be careful, alright?" he said as his eyes squinted into hers in that way they did. She nodded, giving him a somewhat bitter smile as he closed the door, even though she wasn't sure she knew what he meant. Or why she felt a sudden ball of dread knotting in her stomach. _Or _why she felt like she wanted to sit down and have a nice, long cry. Well, maybe that last part could be explained fairly easily due to the myriad emotions flooding back into her system. She felt like she was a computer that had been shut down, dark to the world for months, and was now being slowly booted up again, lights turning on and certain programs kicking into use again.

She felt like she was coming alive in a completely different way than the way she'd felt alive in the last year and a half. She was turning back into _Elena_. It wasn't as good of a feeling as one might think.

She sighed loudly into the empty room as she listened to Dean's (and Sam's) footsteps move towards Sam's car. She heard Dean huff quietly, and could imagine him patting his pockets, ready to protest taking his brother's plastic looking car, before he realized Elena still had his keys.

She didn't even try to lie to herself anymore as she listened to them drive off; she'd been listening to make sure they stayed safe, because on some level, a voice was nagging at her, telling her that _she'd _gotten kidnapped countless times as soon as her "security team" took a break. And, honestly, those boys must've had countless enemies who wouldn't have a problem snagging them to try out some new midday torture methods. She knew they could put up a good fight on their own, for sure, but no matter how experienced, they were still just humans, as she had been.

As the sound of the engine blended in with the others on the highway, Elena turned around, strolling her way back toward the baby on the bed, still sleeping. She idly adjusted his position on the pillows, making him more comfortable. She stroked the fine hairs away from his soft forehead, sighing again. "What am I going to _do_?" she asked in a desperate whisper, knowing that if she didn't know the answer to that, a damn infant sure didn't.

Shaking her head at her own self, Elena started humming along to a song playing on repeat in her head, walking into the small kitchen section of the room and toward the fridge, where, if she was right and the brothers kept similar habits, there were at least five bottles of beer. Opening the fridge proved her right. She smiled in satisfaction and reached in for one, placing it on the counter. She was just about to pop the cap when her gaze shifted to the perfectly placed bottle of cheap scotch sitting innocently on the counter in front of her. There was even a clean glass tumbler next to it, hers for the taking.

She really shouldn't drink something so strong while taking care of a small, defenseless human, she thought as she looked back and forth between the two bottles. _But, _Elena reasoned with herself, her tolerance was practically unbreakable now that she was an official member of the undead, _and _strong alcohol helped with curbing bloodlust...not that she was feeling any at this moment. She'd gotten very good at control in the last months, knowing that she _couldn't, _living with a hunter, afford to lose it and maybe have a few more self-pitying "I'm a monster" moments while digging some poor soul's grave or blubbering uncontrollably in someone else's blood.

Not that she hadn't..._indulged _herself a few times. Killing demons just wasn't enough sometimes, she thought as she unceremoniously tossed her beer back in the fridge. Sometimes she had to indulge in the human scum of the earth, too. She thought back on the times when she'd snuck out of the hotel room past midnight, dressed in black from head to toe, her makeup done up dark and her lips painted scarlet. She was always sure to let her attitude (her aura, really) uncoil from her body like a whip, radiating off her dangerously and striking anyone who dared come too close. She went into the worst part of whatever town they were hunting in, listening for suspicious sounds and searching the shadows with a glare. _Every single time, _she'd come across at least one crying girl pinned to some brick wall, a man of varying age keeping them there. The aforementioned scum she indulged in.

Her hair curled and chocolate eyes lethal, she showed them something scarier than Katherine Pierce.

Sometimes when they were young and impressionable, or they had an immediate look of regret when she ripped them violently off the girl, or were just plain stupid, she would let them off "easy": compel them to be unreasonably, eternally, miserable. She told them to go through life always feeling on the edge of insanity, of suicide, but made sure they would never—_ could _never—give in. Otherwise, she just killed them, for no other reason than the satisfaction of their screams turned around on them, and the fact that they could never leave another impression on the human race; never pass on their gene pool. Dean didn't know about any of her special nighttime excursions, though Elena was sure he wouldn't need much convincing to realize she was doing the world a favor.

She mulled over it as she poured herself a glass of the cheap scotch; how much she'd changed since the day she'd bumped clumsily into Stefan Salvatore outside the bathroom; since she'd found out about vampires, Katherine, Klaus, The Originals. The list could go on. Throughout everything, she'd always been the defenseless human, always accompanied by someone in love with her just enough to put her life unquestioningly before theirs. Elena herself probably couldn't have made a tough decision if her life depended on it. In fact, her life _had _depended on it before, and she'd lain down to die.

But now, she was so different, her past self wouldn't have recognized her a bit. The only worrying part about any of it was that she wasn't _worried _about not being worried about not being who she'd been for the first eighteen years of her life.

But maybe she wasn't so different now. Maybe she never really knew who Elena Gilbert was. Should she even be allowed to call herself a Gilbert? Because she wasn't, not through and through. She observed her own hand holding her scotch, how elegantly she held the glass, spindly fingers spread lazily around the center. Her hand was not the hand of an American teenager, or even a teenage vampire, certainly not the hand of a _Gilbert _; it was the hand of a Petrova woman, a dominatrix, women who were instinctively graceful and intelligent and powerful. It was practically _in her blood _to be a vampire, Elena thought, and wasn't quite sure if she felt horrified or insanely powerful.

She heard the baby start squalling again, and snapped out of her heavy thoughts to tend to it. She sighed as she made her way toward the kid; seeing babies now just reminded her of what she would never have. She dipped her finger into the brownish liquid in her glass and stretched it experimentally down in front of the baby's red face. He cooed at the prospect of a new thing to chew on, and sucked her finger into his mouth, quieting completely as he tasted the heavy alcohol on her skin. She smirked as the baby's eyes widened into saucers in wonder.

"It's good, isn't it?" she asked with satisfaction. Maybe she liked this kid after all.


End file.
